Dismantle the Sun

3: All That's Left

NEAR ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND

Continued


Hermione was itching to read the paper right away. She hadn't heard any news in so long. She decided to eat first, freshen up and change, and then she would sit and relax with the paper, eat a bit, and have an early night so she could leave at first light. She might even read a few chapters, if she felt up to it.

She did occasionally come across a bookcase when she was raiding a house, but she had only stolen one book. Its title had caught her eye two and a half years ago as she crept through a small cottage in the southern bit of Scotland. Growing up, her mum had read children's classics to her when she was very young and then she had started reading her favourites herself when she was six, before she discovered the world of non-fiction and knowledge she had fallen in love with.

The book she had not been able to resist had always been one of her favourite children's classics: A Little Princess. She hadn't even given it a thought, had just grabbed the small paperback on her way out the door.

If she had thought about it at the time, she would have realized what a dangerous book it was for her to read.

She cried throughout the entire novel, many times too hard to be able to see, and she had fallen asleep with it in her hands that first night, emotionally spent.

She has read The Little Princess several times since, and it still hurt, but she could tell that Sara Crewe, while fictional, was helping her to get through each day. She couldn't romanticize her situation; she had been through too much for anything like that. But, she found that she did possess strength.

A bit later, she pulled the newspaper from its plastic sleeve and spread it out before her. She froze, shocked by the photo covering the front page.

Mr. Weasley.

And he looked...dead. Laid out on a platform, ash-grey and still, the only animation was from the flashes of the surrounding wizarding cameras.

Hermione unfolded the paper with shaking hands, desperately trying to get to the article. When it was open before her, she raced through the words.

TERRORIST LEADER EXECUTED AT DAWN

Take heart, reader and citizen, as I am here to tell you that, at last, one family of known terrorists is no longer a threat. The last member, the elusive patriarch, Arthur Weasley, was apprehended two weeks ago and has been brought to justice. Weasley was executed for his crimes against peace, including but not limited to: murder, insurrection, seditious conspiracy, and treason.

For more information about the hearing, see page 5A. For more information about the capture and reward for any member of the terrorist ring, Hellebore, see page 7A. For a list of what to do to protect yourself if a terrorist threatens you, see page 7B.

The paper shook in her left hand as Hermione stared down at Arthur's dear face. The implication from the article was just as devastating. ALL of the Weasleys gone? Every last one of them?

Hermione set the paper down on the ground, placing a nearby stone on top to keep the light pages from blowing away. She stood up, clutched her stomach, and swayed to the side as dizziness threatened.

She grasped a large English oak, dry-heaving. When she caught her breath, she stumbled away from the tree a few steps and then sank down to the ground.

Hermione laid her forehead down against the underbrush and cried.

Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the twins, Charlie, Bill, and Percy. All of them? It was bad enough, impossible enough, that Ron was gone.

She curled up into a ball until her sobs eased and the only sound she made was hiccups as slow, hot tears burned down her cheeks.

THE EASTERN SEABOARD, UNITED STATES

Three days since the disappearances

Sam was sure of one thing. They couldn't stay here.

She couldn't fathom why or how this had happened, but aside from the constant ache left by the absence of their parents, the answers to these questions were not as important as the course of their survival.

Teenagers were breaking into stores, setting empty houses on fire, and fights were breaking out on several street corners.

Beth had spent the morning curled up on the couch with a book, trying to read but spending most of her time glancing at the front door.

"Hey, we need to talk." Sam sat down next to Beth. One of her feet bounced in agitation. She had never been any good at sitting still.

Beth closed her dog-eared copy of Matilda, holding her place with her finger. She didn't say anything, but she held her breath, waiting for the axe to drop.

"I've been thinking," Sam started.

"Uh oh."

Sam gave Beth one of her trademark dark looks in reply and soldiered on. "I know you want to stay here, and trust me, I do, too, but it isn't safe. You know Uncle E will either help us or isn't going to need his shop anymore —"

Beth sat up straight. "Oh! No, Sam, please. This is our home. And what if Mom and Dad come back?"

"They're not coming back. But even if they do, the auto shop's not far. A few miles. We'll leave a note just in case." Sam sighed. "I've thought about this a lot. I checked it out this morning and the keys were at Uncle E's house. I guess he hadn't gone to work yet that morning. To be honest, I think he's gone as well. But, because the building is concrete, we won't have to worry about some idiots setting it on fire. The front door is a monster that no one could break through and we can keep the garage door closed."

It took Beth a moment to gather her thoughts. The last thing she wanted to do was leave. "I hate this."

"Me too." Sam stood and pulled Beth to her feet. "C'mon. It's going to take several trips to get all of our stuff over there. I took a few boxes of food from Uncle E's pantry and stored them in the shop, but we need to move all of our food and the rest of his before someone steals it. It could already be gone."

Beth didn't reply, but she hurried upstairs to get her backpack. She blinked away tears. Her room was small but tidy, with chalky white walls and a white desk in the corner next to her keyboard. Their mom was a professor of music theory and Beth had been playing piano her whole life.

Her fingers lingered on the keys for a moment.

Beth emptied her backpack and then filled it with books from the shelf next to her bed. She picked up the photo of all four of them from her desk on her way out. They had been visiting their grandparents in Pensacola. Dad was making a goofy face and Mom was rolling her eyes. She and Sam had both been laughing.

Had it only been last summer?

Sam had just turned thirteen. They had visited their grandparents every year during Sam's birthday since before Beth was even born. She tucked the framed photo in with her books.

She couldn't imagine ever laughing like that again.

Three weeks later

It's amazing the rate at which food disappears, even when you're careful.

They still had enough for a few weeks, but it wasn't going to last forever. Sam had started breaking into houses, looking for any food she could find. Unfortunately, she was not the only one.

The streets of Boston were becoming more dangerous every day and Sam forbid Beth from leaving the shop by herself.

Sam met Ricky at Beacon Hill, one of the nicest neighborhoods the city had to offer.

Rich people had the best food.